


ghost girl

by questionably_fortunate_bamboo



Series: jonsa countdown 2017 [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake Character Death, Jonsa Countdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 21:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11472006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionably_fortunate_bamboo/pseuds/questionably_fortunate_bamboo
Summary: A year after faking her death to escape an abusive marriage, Alayne Stone runs into a face from the past.(written for day eleven of the jonsa countdown - stone / snow)





	ghost girl

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. this sucks i'm really sorry  
> 2\. there will be better stuff coming up, trust me

“Can I get a name for that order?” asks the barista.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s Alayne,” says Sansa, tucking her dark brown hair behind her ear. 

It’s been a year since she faked her death to escape her marriage to Ramsay Bolton, but she still hasn’t gotten used to her new identity. Sansa had red hair, Alayne has brown. Sansa was outgoing and friendly, Alayne is withdrawn and polite. Sansa liked strawberry milkshakes, Alayne likes strong coffee. The two are carefully separated by a wall she built in her own mind.

“I’ve got a medium cappuccino for Alayne?” She goes to get her coffee. Scrawled on the side in black sharpie is  _Elaine_. Sansa figures the effort is what counts.

Her apartment is a block away. The building supervisor is a kind old man named Davos, who lives with his granddaughter Shireen in the unit below her. He lets her pay with cash, which she gets from her job sewing wedding dresses in the local boutique. She surrounds herself with nice, everyday people who don’t ask many questions. So far, so good. The whole world believes that Sansa Stark tragically jumped to her death after suffering at the hands of her abusive husband, who is now behind bars.

Shivering in the cool autumn breeze, she takes a sip of her coffee. It tastes like shit.

Sansa reviews Alayne’s schedule. Tonight, she’s free. Tomorrow, she’s working in the morning and then going home to assemble the new shelves she bought. The day after that is Saturday, her favorite day of the week. Davos has to work on Saturdays, which means that Shireen and Sansa get to hang around her apartment, drink hot cocoa, and watch old movies.

She smiles to herself, and nearly collides with a teenager on a bike.

“Hey, watch out!” A pair of strong arms pull her away. The cappuccino goes flying out of her hands and spills across the sidewalk.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate-” her words freeze in her throat. _Oh shit._

“Sansa?” Jon Snow stares at her with wide eyes. She tries to search for words. One whole year in hiding, and this is the first time she’s ever run into someone from her past life. His dark hair is pulled back in a bun, his beard is thicker, and there’s a faint pink scar on his cheek, but aside from that he looks just the same as he did when he left Winterfell to teach English Literature at Castle Black University.

“It’s Alayne,” she says, “but hi.” Luckily, he seems to catch on.

“Sorry, Alayne. Long time, no see.” He looks at her hair and winces. Sansa nearly slaps him for that.

“Why don’t you come back to my apartment? We can catch up,” she says, presenting her best fake smile. Jon nods stiffly.

 _Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit,_  she thinks as they walk to her building.  _What the fuck is going to happen now_? She had been madly in love with him for years before he left to pursue his teaching career. His absence changed everything, even before her parents and Robb died.

“Hi, Alayne!” Shireen is in a pair of denim overalls with multicolored stains on the front, repainting the wall across from Sansa’s apartment.

“Hey, Shireen. Are we still on for Saturday?”

“Yeah- hey, that reminds me, maybe you could show me how to make dresses. There’s a winter formal at my school and I spent my savings on a bunch of books,” says Shireen, grinning sheepishly.

“That sounds great. I’ll see you later, kiddo.” Sansa unlocks her apartment, ushering Jon inside. It’s freezing cold, and there’s a draft coming in through the old window near the sink. She digs through her drawers to find a roll of saran wrap, which she seals over the cracks in the glass.

“Sansa. It’s been a year.”

She grinds her teeth together. “Don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, I’m fucking _happy_  to see you alive. But I need to know why you did it. It’s been killing me, Sansa, every fucking day.” Jon’s expression is a strange mix of frustration and relief. He leans against the

“Need to know… why I faked my death?”

“Why you married Ramsay Bolton.”

“You’re a smart man, Jon. You already know. I married him because he had money, and I couldn’t afford to keep Winterfell by myself. And he was fine when I met him, but after the wedding-” she crosses her arms. “Like I said, you’re a smart man. You can fill in the blanks.”

“I would’ve done anything to help you,” he says, even though she already knows. Jon Snow is the most selfless bastard in the entire goddamn world.

“You weren’t there, and I didn’t have time to wait.”

“Did anyone know?”

“Theon did. He’s alive too, but I don’t know where. He might’ve gone back to his sister in Maine.” That’s true, at least. Theon went missing not long after her ‘death’, and it’s best for both of them to remain in the dark about each other’s whereabouts.

A thick silence settles over the kitchen. Sansa puts the tea kettle on the stove and rummages through her mugs, making as much noise as she can.

“So how have you been?” she asks, picking out two tea bags without asking Jon his preference _(she already knows- mint tea with the tiniest hint of sugar)._

“I was at Castle Black when I heard the news. Sam Tarly turned on the TV in the teacher’s lounge and there was your name, your picture, the big red letters that said ‘breaking news’. After that, I left work and went to find you. I could never believe you were dead.”

Sansa smiles at that. “I’m sorry for the trouble.Turns out that being dead is easier than being alive.” She turns around, and her face falls when she sees Jon.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa,” he says, stepping forward and reaching out to hold her hands. “I couldn’t protect you before, but will you let me take care of you now?”

It’s been ages since someone’s promised to keep her safe.  _Jon is not a liar,_ her mind screams,  _Jon is not a liar, Jon will love you._

 _Fuck._  Since when did she think Jon Snow would love her back?

“I can’t have my old life back,” she says, “no matter how much I want it.”

“Then we’ll start a new one. Sansa-”

The kettle begins to screech, and she pulls away gently to pour the water. Her hands are shaking just slightly.

“Will you stay for dinner?” she asks.

He does. And he stays for the night as well. Sansa lets herself hope, just a bit, that he might stay forever.


End file.
